


Reveille in the Key of Shack

by Dorinda



Category: I Spy (1965)
Genre: Canadian Shack, Captured, Cuddling and Snuggling, M/M, Spies & Secret Agents, tied up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-30
Updated: 2011-12-30
Packaged: 2017-10-28 12:35:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/307927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dorinda/pseuds/Dorinda
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For some people, this would be an upsetting situation to wake up to.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Reveille in the Key of Shack

At last, the painful buzzing in his head resolved into words: "...up. Hear me? Come on, Kel. Let's go, now, c'mon. Hello! Up, boy, up."

Scotty's voice. Okay, that was good. Very good. Nothing to worry about now. S'wonderful, s'marvelous. And all A-OK.

Scotty kept on with the verbal nudging, though. "Kelly. _Kelly_. Hey. You're not just gonna lie there and leave me all alone, are you?"

All right, fine, if he had to be that way about it. So Kelly opened his eyes. That...didn't really seem to help. Eyelids functioning, sure, but it didn't shed what you might call light on the situation. So, two choices: stricken suddenly blind, like a latter-day and Janeless Mr. Rochester, or...

"Tell me one thing," he said, his voice rusty--cutting off Scotty's latest persuasive tactic, which from this angle sounded a lot like fussing.

"Oh, so _now_ he deigns to join our program already in progress," Scotty said. "What on earth do you want, I'm busy."

"Not to bother you or anything, but I would love to know if--just by chance, mind you--somebody's put my head in a bag."

"Well, if they have, then it's a bag built for two."

Kelly tested the bonds at his wrists and ankles. Snug, but he'd had snugger. "So you're in the dark too?"

"Literally, figuratively, and any other way you got."

"Arms and legs?"

"Uh, two. Of each."

Kelly did his best to grumble, though he figured Scotty could hear his little smile. "Oh, nice, very nice. I often say to myself that I like nothing better than to lie here on a concrete floor--"

"Wooden floor," Scotty supplied.

"--like I was saying, a wooden floor, getting my pants all dirty, with splinters in unmentionable places, listening to some lunkhead practice his Ed Sullivan routine."

"If you do not like it, Topo Gigio," Scotty retorted (and Kelly could hear the look on his face too, the heavy-lidded raised-brow exaggeration), "you may roll yourself right over here, and you may lump it."

"I might just do that." Kelly mentally consigned his jeans to the scrap heap and started rolling slowly in the direction of Scotty's voice. "Why don't you hurry it up and roll on over thisaway?" Ouch. Especially splintery part.

"Why not. Speed up--we can joust." Scotty's voice sounded closer, if awkward from effort.

Mid-roll, he met Scotty in a soft full-body collision. "Uff. Lousy jaywalkers." He inchwormed until they were almost level, then pushed his head against Scotty's chest with a sigh. "Well, Ollie. Here we are again."

"One small shack for men..." Scotty rested his head comfortably atop Kelly's.

"One giant pain in the...assignment."

"You want to chew on the ropes first, or shall I?"

"Gettin' right on that." Kelly closed his eyes. Not to keep the light out; it just felt nice. He even nestled, kind of.

"Kel," Scotty said into his hair. His voice was muffled and gentle.

"Riiiight on it."

"Mmm-hmm."

Coziest escape on record.

  



End file.
